The Golden Boy
by Nero Cosine
Summary: James Potter was Hogwarts’ golden boy. The most popular, the best looking, with an everlasting quantity of arrogance. His life was a cliché. He treated me with indifference. In the past, he had reduced me to tears with his taunts. And yet I loved him. LJ.


_Disclaimer: Harry Potter, names, characters and related indicia are copyright and trademark Warner Bros., 2000™ and are courtesy of J.K. Rowling's imagination. I, Nero Cosine, own nothing, save original characters and plot._

**The Golden Boy**

_**Chapter 1  
**__**An Impossible Desire**_

I was sitting in the Great Hall when he entered. I don't know why, but the whole atmosphere of a room would change when he made his presence known. People would slouch further in an attempt to look cool; girls would laugh hysterically at nothing, trying to catch his attention; I would tilt my head at him and try to see him in a different light, looking for something other than the arrogant bastard that everyone idolised.

Despite my best efforts, I was jealous of James Potter.

I couldn't "compete" with him, as such, as we were so very different socially. James had the best of everything. He would host and be invited to magnificent parties; ones that I could only dream of. School was the same. Everyone had their circles at Hogwarts, James included, who was part of the group dubbed the "Marauders". Whether they had come up with that name themselves or not, I did not know.

They were the elite. Everyone wanted a part of them, including me. I couldn't help myself. Even though they were rude, disrespectful and shameless, the complete opposite of myself, I would look for them when I walked in a room. I would situate myself and my friends near them at lunchtimes, simply to get a glimpse of the action.

There was a definite dividing line between myself and them, something that could not easily be broken. That thing was blood. I was a Muggleborn; a Mudblood to the Slytherins. James, Sirius, Remus and Peter, the Marauders, were all pure-bloods, save Peter, who was a half-blood.

Being a Muggleborn, I was generally looked down upon as something dirty, no matter how many times I washed my hair. I was teased and taunted when younger. It's a horrible feeling, being caught between two completely different societies. I didn't fit in the Muggle world, being a witch. I didn't fit in the wizarding world, being a Muggleborn.

Luckily, not many people pursued the fact that I was from Muggle heritage. Muggle. I found it an utterly disgusting word. I hated using it to describe my kind, sweet mother and warm, bespectacled father. I envisioned it being created by a cynical pure-blood wizard, intent on making himself feel better by giving non-magical folk a nasty-sounding name.

James Potter and I were just different. Don't get me wrong, I was no social reject. I had a nice group of friends that I loved and could talk to easily. But something was lacking. Excitement. _He_ was exciting.

And I fancied him.

Have you ever fancied someone despite the obvious flaws in their personality? I knew James could be a bully. He treated me with indifference, occasionally making fun of me. He gave the professors shit. He taunted my old, untrustworthy friend, Severus Snape. Yet I quietly wondered to myself; wondered what it would be like to date him. Or even have him as a friend.

Alas, these things were impossible. He had never shown any real interest towards me. It was especially embarrassing that he knew that I liked him, or _had_ liked him, anyway. It had stupidly slipped out in fifth year, when I had been studying with Ursula Schwartz from Hufflepuff in the Library. She, being a distant relation of James, decided to tell him this juicy piece of information.

He had insensitively used my feelings to mock me, asking me out incessantly while laughing with his mates. I ignored him and blatantly refused his false advances, which, thankfully, led him to believe that Ursula lied to him.

I barely spoke to him after that. He grew up, from a hormonal adolescent into a young man, something which did not pass me by. I noticed. I grew up too, despite my dreams to stay young forever, like some Peter Pan-girl, desperate to escape adulthood and the responsibility that awaited me outside of school.

He and I were seventeen, fully fledged adults in the wizarding world, when we received the positions of Head Boy and Girl of Hogwarts. Our eighteenth birthdays were to fall just before Easter, a month or so apart.

I didn't react a great deal when I received my letter which told me of my new position of power. The holidays were often a hopelessly devastating time for me. Away from the daily grind of schoolwork and friends, I was left to ponder endlessly on pointless philosophical questions, such as the meaning of life. These sorts of questions tended to lead me into a depressed state, discontented and constantly exhausted.

My mind was like a yo-yo, unravelling into a bleak nothingness before being yanked back into determined reality. It was the holidays before my seventh and final year at Hogwarts that I decided to improve my life.

Going back to school, I needed a project. Something to work on. That something came to me in a dream, as clichéd and unlikely as it sounds. I often dreamed about James Potter. The dreams weren't usually romantic or anything, but nice. He would talk to me, or I would shamelessly watch him talk to someone else. In my dreams, everything was perfect.

I longed for the world in my dreams.

My project was going to be James. I set out to befriend him, to show him a different aspect of life. One away from booze, drugs and bullshit. Simple. Clean. Nice. I wanted him and I was determined to fight for the best in my life.

The plan was, unfortunately, greatly flawed. How was I supposed to talk to him and get him to respond? I decided to figure out the fine details at a later date. Luckily for me, this problem was answered when I attended the Prefect meeting on the Hogwarts Express earlier that day.

I remembered the moment very clearly. After all, it was only a few hours previous.

I walked down the corridor towards the compartment reserved for the Heads and Prefects. Glancing through the glass door of a compartment that contained a few younger students, I smiled at the gorgeous green countryside that was passing by.

I paused before the Prefect compartment, taking a deep breath. I hoped desperately for a mildly intelligent Head Boy, preferably someone who was easy on the eye, too. I turned quickly to the door and pulled it open.

James Potter. Who would have guessed? Certainly not I. Sure, he was well-liked within the student population, but the teachers viewed him as a troublemaker and attention-seeker. I didn't question Dumbledore's decision, though. He was a brilliant man, and I knew that if he deemed James Head Boy material, then he was.

It was a larger compartment than the ordinary ones. I sat down opposite him silently. He looked up, his hazel eyes questioning. "Hi, Lily," he said.

"Hi," I responded, feeling awkward.

"You're a Prefect, right?" he asked, picking up a magazine which lay beside him and absentmindedly flicking through it.

"Head Girl."

He looked up from his magazine, surprised and disappointed. "Oh. Really?"

I narrowed my eyes, slightly annoyed that he couldn't process the information. And was that _disappointment_ I could see on his face? "Yes. Really."

"Well," he said, dropping the magazine and extending his hand. "James Potter." He didn't smile as he said it; rather his eyes searched my body, like he was seeing me for the first time. Maybe he was.

I smiled nervously at him. Surely he knew that I had been an "acquaintance" of his for six years. I not only knew his given name, but his middle name as well. I knew his birthday. I knew the name of his ruddy owl.

"Lily Evans," I said, delicately placing my hand in his. Somehow, I doubted if he knew my middle name, my birthday or the name of my owl. Slowly we shook hands. His was warm and smooth.

"That was pointless," he admitted.

Despite his cool demeanour, he looked nervous and unsure of what to do and say. I found myself studying the profile of his face as he gazed out of the window for a moment. He had a strong nose. Not too long or big, but strong. I wondered if that trait would be carried down through generations.

James turned to me suddenly. "Err, Ev- Lily?"

"Yeah?" I said, feeling my cheeks heat up slightly for staring at him.

"What do we, you know, do this year?"

"What, like Head Boy and Girl?"

"Yeah. What exactly are our duties? I'm just wondering because I wasn't a Prefect and all, and you were."

How could I have forgotten? He wasn't a Prefect! This was uncommon, a Head Boy that wasn't a Prefect. Still, I didn't question Dumbledore's decision. The Headmaster's intelligence was beyond my capabilities, so I was sure that he could choose a suitable Head Boy. He had obviously seen something in James that I had not.

"Well, we're going to be in charge of allocating patrol times to the Prefects and ourselves. We have to dock points from people that are up to no good-"

"Like Sirius," James interjected.

"Yes. We don't do _that_ much, actually. It's a good position to be in. People will look up to us."

"People looking up to me?" he scoffed. "Highly unlikely."

"What are you talking about?" I asked, confused. "It shouldn't be a problem. Everyone looks up to you already!" I could hear a tinge of jealousy in my voice.

James shook his head, smiling bitterly. "No. People don't take me seriously enough to look up to me."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, look at me. At my friends. We aren't exactly role model types."

He was looking out the window again, and I was left to study his face. His features were stony and carefully rearranged, concealing his true thoughts from me. I knew there was something dark, something cold that lay beneath his exterior; something that he wouldn't confess to me.

Something inside me stirred at his expression. I got up and sat next to him, in front of the window.

He blinked at my sudden movement, his intense expression softening. I felt my blood pounding in my ears as I looked into his eyes. "You'll do absolutely fine," I murmured.

James opened his mouth, maybe to say something, when the compartment door opened and a few Prefects entered and sat down. He stared at me for a second, before turning to them and introducing himself.

The moment had gone. Whatever he was going to say, whatever he was going to do was lost. James Potter and I never said much to each other after that, despite my best efforts. My project wasn't going as well as I had hoped, even though we were Heads together.

As he entered the Great Hall he was laughing and talking with Peter, who bounced along happily alongside him. Sirius was slouching, brooding quietly behind him, as Remus attempted to talk to him. It was always like that with the Marauders.

James was Hogwarts' "golden boy", as he was named by Professor McGonagall one day in a fit of anger. The name had stuck. It summed up his personality perfectly. He was the only heir to the ridiculously wealthy pure-blooded Potter family, which I was sure had never had a drop of Muggle blood infecting_ its_ purity.

He was popular for all the wrong reasons. In fact, he was by far the most popular person in our year. In the whole school, for that matter. Thinking about it, his life was as clichéd as hell. He was powerful, popular, lusted after, the whole works. He had glasses, too. How did a bespectacled person become so high in the Hogwarts' food chain? I never could work this out. Weren't they usually the ones teased by bullies?

It was quite the opposite, in James's case. He could be a terrible bully. Sometimes he would go about it discreetly, other times he would torment students in front of a crowd. It was a horrible sight. It was one aspect about him that I loathed. How could he be so cruel, yet so well-liked? It was a question that I could never work out.

Maybe people were frightened of him. He was one of those people who could publicly humiliate a person, but the following day they would crawl back to him, wanting more.

I had never been one of those people. Possibly because I never treated people as badly as he did. Or maybe I wasn't as _magnetic_ as he was.

James strode past me, taking a seat next to Delen Barnes, a girl in my year. Delen smiled widely at him, flicking her bleached hair and slapping him on the arm flirtatiously. I couldn't make out what they were saying.

"Lily? Lily?" Marlene said to me, pouting and fluffing her dark hair. "You're not listening!"

Marlene Stewart was one of my best friends. She was my best friend in Gryffindor, anyway. She was pale, with dark features. There was something about her that looked exotic, even though her family was completely British. She had once shown me her family tree, which traced her ancestors back to Merlin's time. British born and bred.

"Sorry, what?" I said, blinking.

Marlene smiled at me, grabbing a chunk of her hair and pulling it back, revealing her ear. "Do you like my new earrings?"

She was wearing shimmery, dangly earrings; clusters of shiny olive-coloured beads. Not something I would wear. Marlene was very feminine and outrageous in the things she wore, while I would have described myself as someone who preferred to wear … classic clothing? I don't know.

"They're gorgeous," I lied, smiling.

"I can't believe this is our last year at Hogwarts!" Marlene gushed, looking around.

"I can't wait to get out of here," said Mary MacDonald.

Mary was one of those people who I was friends with sometimes, but I didn't trust her at all. She was unnaturally tall and quite a big girl. She would only sit with Marlene and me when necessary, as she had much "cooler" friends in the other houses.

My attention span was waning and I looked over to James again, who was trying to control his laughter over something. Why was his group _always_ laughing? What did they have to laugh about all the time? As pathetic as it sounds, I wanted to be a part of the joke. I wanted to laugh more. I was so bored.

Delen was giggling and whispering something to Emily Ford, another girl in my year. Emily was short and small, with beautiful olive skin and a brilliant smile. Emily looked over to Sirius and grinned. Sirius had his wand out and did something to Peter with it, causing the chubby boy to yelp loudly and leap out of his seat, running around wildly.

James, Sirius, Remus, Delen and Emily roared with laughter, causing everyone to cease their chatter and watch the small group interestedly.

Professor McGonagall marched towards them, having appeared moments before from a door leading off the side of the Great Hall. "Black!" she screeched. "Detention!"

"Professor!" James complained loudly. "It was just a bit of fun!"

"Ah! Hot! Hot! Hot! Hot!" Peter screamed, clutching his backside.

"You silly boy, you learnt the counter-curse to this in your third year," McGonagall sighed, grasping Peter by his robes and pointing her wand at his bottom.

Peter straightened up and smiled nervously at McGonagall before climbing back into his seat. James ruffled his hair and Peter pushed him away, causing James to lean dangerously close to Delen. She didn't seem to mind, pulling him close and whispering something in his ear.

I often wondered how friendship groups were sorted out. They say that opposites attract, but it was really the similar people who were grouped together.

There were the Muggleborns, like me. Quite a few of my friends were from Muggle heritage, as well. Then there were the half-bloods, like Marlene and Mary. They fared better in the wide world of magic.

But, of course, the pure-bloods ruled the magical society. It was the unwritten rule. Delen and Emily were both pure-bloods and _they_ were fortunate enough to be cosy with the Marauders.

It didn't matter how pretty, smart or witty I was, nothing was ever good enough for a pure-blood. It was downright disgusting, really. I informed my parents of this and they told me to keep away from any trouble. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Trouble was everywhere at Hogwarts.

Suddenly, as if he knew I was looking in his general direction, James looked over to me, staring at me for a second.

I knew James had never really liked me. There were the people who didn't mean anything to him, but I was different. He would get this look in his eyes, a teasing glint, every time he spoke to me. It was so damn annoying; it was like I was a constant source of amusement to him.

They say that boys fancy the girl they tease. Who are _they_, anyway? How to _they_ know anything about anything? That saying was completely different to the way I was treated with James. His teasing was more of an indifferent, trying-to-get-a-laugh-out-of-his-friends kind of mockery. He certainly didn't care that he had reduced me to tears in our younger years.

James smirked and turned back to Delen, who had her robes yanked up, showing Emily something on her thigh. She looked cheap, I had to admit. He raised his eyebrows at her.

Dumbledore stood up and clapped his hands, waiting for the chatter to die down. "Greetings, everyone! Welcome to the start of a new school year! I hope that your holidays have been productive and exciting, like mine!"

A loud burst of laughter came from Delen. Her eyes were watering as she clutched James, shaking. I knew that she loved being the centre of attention and there she was, _the centre of attention_. I shook my head, lowering my gaze to the table. I physically could not look at Delen. Sometimes her behaviour made me want to throw up. Not just the way she was so disrespectful to teachers. Other things …

Dumbledore paused for a second. There was no trace of annoyance on his face and he waited patiently for Delen to calm down.

"Are you perfectly capable of functioning until the feast, Miss Barnes, or shall we send you to the Hospital Wing?" Professor McGonagall said in a disapproving voice which carried across the hall. Several students – some friends of Delen and some who _wished_ they were – snickered.

I rolled my eyes and looked at Marlene, who shook her head and smiled sympathetically. I hated it when teachers singled out students like Delen and made it known to the rest of the student body that they were up to no good. It was that kind of treatment that Delen thrived on and the teachers at Hogwarts just _didn't seem to realise_ that they were promoting such behaviour, rather than hindering it.

I could make _such_ a good teacher. I would put those kids back in their places.

"As I was saying, I experienced a wonderful holiday! I spent most of my time in an exquisite forest down south and I must say that the bird-watching there is simply _spectacular_! I saw a magnificent Augurey, a fine-looking creature it was, not to mention the numerous Jobberknolls-" Dumbledore was cut off by Professor McGonagall, who made a polite coughing noise. She indicated to the door she had come from; everyone knew that a group of first years, scared stiff, were waiting behind it.

Miniscule Professor Flitwick, who was sitting on Dumbledore's left hand side, whispered something into the aging Headmaster's ear.

"The sorting hasn't been completed yet? Oh, so it has not! How inconsiderate of me to begin my start of year speech. I shall have to repeat it to the eager ears of our new students!"

A groan issued from most of the students in the Hall.

"Dumbledore's getting battier with age," whispered Marlene, leaning close to me.

I made a noncommittal noise and smiled, my eyes glued to the first years being led into the Hall with McGonagall.

The sorting of the first years was a tediously dull event to be forced to suffer through. Unless someone was sorted into Gryffindor, my house – which was a cue for me to clap and cheer half-heartedly – I sat there, boredom seeping into my veins like poison.

I _hated_ being bored. I fiddled with my robes and hair. I chewed my fingernails and cuticles. I poked Marlene a few times in the arm, which amused me for a few seconds. How many bloody first years were there, anyway?

I decided to people-watch.

Boring … Then again, I had a clear view of James Potter from where I was sitting …

Re-adjusting my slightly scratchy robes, I put my elbows on the table in front of me and rested my head in my hands. Damn, why did James have to be so _gorgeous_? His face was good-looking and his hair wild. There was something about him that I just wanted to … experience. I wanted to be near him. I wanted him to whisper secrets in my ear, as … weird as that sounds. Well, I was weird, so my friends said, so what did it matter?

Don't get me wrong, he certainly wasn't flawless-looking, nor did he have a flawless personality. But, oh … I really couldn't explain why I found him so attractive.

It was hopeless, unrequited … love? No. I still hated him, as much as I liked him. Lust, definitely.

I sighed deeply as Dumbledore stood up again, the first years sorted and sitting comfortably at their house tables. I was vaguely aware of him speaking and smiling. My eyes glazed over and I only snapped out of it when the start of term feast had appeared on the tables.

"Mmm," I said sleepily, feeling lethargic from the suffocating warmth of the room.

"All right, Lily?" asked Mary, laughing slightly. I nodded, blinking.

I couldn't help notice that she looked a bit like a pig. Funny, that. I had known her for six years and only just realised what kind of animal she looked most like.

People said that I looked like a cat. I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. There was a Muggle boy in the school that I went to before Hogwarts who told me exactly what aspects of my face looked cattish, on more than one occasion.

He was a few Sickles short of a Galleon, that one.

I blindly ate my way through dinner and then dessert, not really tasting the food properly. What was _wrong_ with me? I loved food. Loved it too much, my thighs screamed out.

My head hurt and I felt fuzzy. Was it the heat? I suddenly felt the urge to go outside, into the cold. That would refresh me, surely. As soon as we were excused to go, I dashed past the numerous people rising from the tables and ran into the Entrance Hall, panting and with a stitch in my side from running combined with undigested food.

Approaching the massive double doors leading out of the Entrance Hall, I desperately hoped they were unlocked. Merlin only knows how one would open those doors once locked. My assumptions were that a simple "_Alohomora_" wouldn't have any effect at all.

Thankfully the doors allowed me to push them open a crack, enough for me to slither through. It was as if they knew how much I needed the crisp night air.

As soon as I was outside, coldness washed over me. I jogged down the couple of steps leading down to the driveway and just stood there, enjoying the feel of the icy air against my bare skin and letting the darkness engulf me in a fearsome, creepy way.

I could have been someone else standing there; someone exciting, running away from danger and pausing to take in the surroundings.

The sky was as black as could be, with countless stars twinkling, and I found myself amazed at how beautiful everything was, despite having seen it many, many times before. I had always taken an interest in stars. They were so far away and scattered randomly in the sky, like someone had tossed a handful of glitter onto a dark surface. So many mysteries lay up in the night sky, mysteries that I would never learn of …

My breath fogged up the air and my fingers slowly froze, the night sucking all heat from my thinly-robed body. I rubbed my hands up my arms, wanting to go back inside. Something was stopping me. Something wanted me to stay out there, experiencing the night time. In a strange way, this breathless, glacial feeling was … exhilarating.

Still, I stamped my feet and moved back to the stone steps, sitting down and huddling against my legs for warmth.

The door creaked. The narrow beam of light emanating from the Entrance Hall grew wider and a shadow appeared; a shadow of a person. I whipped my head around; momentarily frightened that it was a teacher, coming to tell me off. I was no saint at Hogwarts, but I hated being told off and feeling like a five year old again, cowering under a Professor's deadly gaze.

James Potter was backing out of the door. With his back still to me, he pulled a box of cigarettes out of his pocket, got one out and lit it.

I sighed, turned around and pretended I hadn't noticed him yet. _He_ could initiate conversation if he wanted to.

"What are you doing out here, Evans?" James asked in a low voice. I heard footsteps and he came and sat down next to me, though a few good inches away. Damn it. Just declare your love for me already, James. No need to make it so obvious.

"I was hot," I said simply, glancing at him. He took a long drag on his cigarette and blew the smoke into the night, leaning back causally on the steps.

"Want a smoke?" he offered, his hand reaching down to his pocket.

"No thanks," I replied, wrinkling my nose.

James grinned in a completely irresistible way and blew smoke into my face, causing me to cough slightly. "Never had a cigarette, Evans?"

"No. I find it, well, slightly repulsive."

"Ooh, don't want to taint your image?" He smirked at me.

"What image?" I asked, confused. I wasn't aware that I had an image. I wasn't aware that people took notice of me.

"Oh, the whole 'I'm too good for boys at this school, the Professors' love me, I don't know how to have fun' thing."

Hold on, rewind there … WHAT? He didn't even know me. How _dare_ he!

"You know nothing about me, _Potter_," I spat.

"Touched a nerve, did I?" he said, laughing.

I shook my head silently, choosing instead to look out down the driveway. I could see the twinkle of lights from Hogsmeade. I just wanted to place my hands around James Potter's neck and- No, I was magical! I just wanted to place my wand tip on James Potter's chest and-

Hogsmeade looked so inviting at night.

Damn, I couldn't even bring myself to do anything to James. I guess I didn't want to mess up his pretty face.

"Well, at least I don't discriminate people for the blood they're born with," I said quietly, standing up.

James threw the remainder of his cigarette into the garden. He said nothing as I quietly pushed open the doors to the Entrance Hall further and looked back out to where he was sitting.

"Night, James," I said softly to his back, so quietly there was no chance of him hearing me.

"Night, Lily."

Did I imagine it? Possibly. Maybe it was just the wind.

* * *

_A/N: Suggestions, criticism, praise, flames … All welcome. Please review._


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